Nature Knows Best

Can it be true that possums are smarter than we give them credit for? Are humans meddlesome creatures that interfere too much with nature? I am beginning to think both are true.

My dog Boudreaux first discovered the possum family den yesterday. While I thought it would be fun to take pics of his discovery, I was a threat to Mama Possum's family. She got irritated and hauled ass. Two babies were left in the den, two fell off during the escape, and two hung on for dear life.

After I safely transported the two that fell off back to the den, I was racked with guilt. What have I done?! Will Mama Possum now abandon her den and these children for good? I left cereal just in case the babies were indeed abandoned and left with no food.

At noon and 9pm, the babies were still in the den with no sign of Mama Possum. The cereal was not touched. Concerned that the babies were hungry, I tossed them sliced seedless grapes and cantaloupe.

At 5am this morning, I found a sack of hen scratch (oats, corn, various seeds) ripped wide open. Mama Possum must have returned! I checked the possum den and found it completely abandoned. Half the cereal and 3/4ths of the fruit were consumed overnight. I breathed a HUGE sigh of relief.

Mama Possum must have relocated her family to a new den far away from the irritating jackass that won't leave them alone. Ahem.

The Great Possum Adventure

I woke up this morning eager to find out if the creature killing my chickens was caught. I was surprised to find the trap sprung and bait eaten, but no creature inside! Notice how the creature pulled palm fronds into the trap to make a nest:


Boudreaux finds a scent and tracks it down. There is an abandoned door with a dilapidated tarp that has his full attention. He ferociously pulls on the tarp and digs. There is something inside!
When I lift up the door, I find a mother possum and her six offspring. She immediately hauls ass. Four baby possums cling to her, while two are left behind:

She climbs up a nearby tree in front of my house. Instead of climbing higher and higher, she stays in this spot motionless with her babies clinging to her:

After a few moments, the mother does something shocking. She lets go and drops like a stone from the tree. The impact causes some babies to fall off. All but one manage to cling back on to her:

This is the baby possum that fell off from impact. He surprised me by quickly climbing up the tree higher than even his mother did:

This cutie fell off in the center of my yard as the mother was scampering away. He doesn't quite know what to do. Doesn't he look cute in this defensive posture?

Feeling guilty for interfering with nature, I get a glove and a dust pan. My plan is to transport the two baby possums that fell off back to their nest:

Yes, I actually climbed the tree barefoot in my front yard to get this one. The tree was so slick from all rain we have been having. I could have totally busted my ass:

He is put right back under the door with his four other siblings.

I felt guilty about the mother being away, so I poured a good amount of my favorite cereal (Honeybuches of Oats) under the door. If I like it, then surely they will:

The sequence of events has caused me great moral angst. How do I resolve my love for nature with the fact that I am losing eggs AND chickens to these creatures? While my family and friends tell me to kill the possums, I don't know if I can bring myself to doing so. Do you not see how cute the babies are? How can I kill a family of possums? I have been driving myself crazy pondering nature's circle of life. I have no clue what action I should take next. Frankly, I don't want to do anything. Ugh!

Starship Nostromo

My chicken pen has eerily become the ill-fated commercial starship Nostromo. Unwittingly, I am playing the role of Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) in the hair raising Alien movie.

Third officer reporting. The other members of the crew, Betsy, Abigail, Myrtle, Greta, and Rocky are dead. Five of us have survived.

The terror of becoming prey has put considerable stress on my crew:

Our "starship" is nestled between two trees. One is an oak tree with branches creeping well into the chicken pen. I originally thought a predator could easily climb in and feast utilizing the low branches:

I ordered all low lying tree limbs cut and wire mesh lined up on top. The person I hired had other ideas however. Having plenty experience with chickens, he theorized that trees actually provide good cover from feathery predators.

Rather than heed my orders, he feverishly worked on boosting starship defenses. All gaps, no matter how small, were repaired and reinforced:

A trap was then set. A raw piece of chicken would serve as bait. How ironic:

If anything is captured overnight, I will let you know. Wish us luck in finding the killer!

Rest in Peace, Rocky:

I am extremely heartbroken. Rocky the Rooster has died. He stood out on the farm as a courageous individual who tirelessly protected the hens in the chicken pen. I admired his great strength. His character was larger than life too. The humorous way Rocky glared at me on camera made him an instant Youtube star. I could always count on Rocky to show me nothing but utter contempt when the camera was rolling. He even made it on a very popular website here. I am going to miss you little guy.

I would like to honor my bud, Rocky, with the following videos:

What is Happiness?

To me, happiness is my furry rugrats Boudreaux and Pierre. Every man should have a dog or two. To be loved unconditionally is a blessing. My dogs are always there to brighten my day. :)

The Gayest Pic Ever?

Do you ever look through the annals of your vast photo catalog and say... "OMG. I look so GAY in this pic!" I do. Not that there is anything wrong with looking or being gay. Ahem.

After an extreme moment of blushing, I am choosing to embarrass myself yet again on this blog. Without further adieu, here is my entry into "THE GAYEST PIC EVER!":


Legal disclaimer: in no way, shape, or form does this picture constitute proof of any sexual position preference of the model.

A Time to Croon

I would like to take this opportunity to thank all of my loyal readers. You mean so much to me. Whether we have traded emails or met up in person, I do appreciate everyone I have met through blogging.

With that said, let's have a "get-real" discussion. I realize the image I project on my blog is umm... CRAZY! Believe it or not, even I hate my blog character at times. I get off doing mean things to him, like a silly Youtube video, just to embarrass him!

The number one question I get pertaining to my blog is: "WHY!?" Why do you put yourself out there so much? Why do you reveal so much personal information? Why is your blog 80% about you?

Aside from obvious maturity issues, I am just a rescue dog looking for a good home. I need love too. Perhaps my blog is nothing more than one big Stuart Smalley affirmation? Hell, if I know!

I am a real person with feelings and emotions. Hopefully, all the pics and videos give you a small glimpse of who I am. Making you smile IS a priority. Thanks for stopping by and peeking into my world.

Behind the Red Door

In the Deep South, everyone has a secret. A pool boy tirelessly cleans his well-heeled Daddy's pool. But his job is not yet done. For behind the red door, naughty things happen. Such sordid tales may be pure fiction... or are they?

A Sunday Inspirational

Cougars with No Gaydar

Have you ever worked in an office with all women? If you have, then you know they can be quite the chatty drama troop. You can forget trying to play the QUIET GAME... they flatout refuse to play!

Needless to say, I look forward to my lunch breaks. I can leave the office and recieve serenity for thirty whole minutes.Today, I chose to enjoy some peace and quiet at the local Wow - Cafe and Wingery. I was doing my usual... checking out ESPN sports highlights and fingering my preciousss iPhone.

I look up and see the cougar waitress staring down at me. GROAN. She has waited on me several times in the past. Unsweetened Ice Tea, right hon? There are no queeny hand gestures. No lisping. No high pitched squeals. I grunt out a manly one word response... "YES".

It can be quite a horrifying experience when a Cougar unknowingly pounces on a gay man. The signs: winks, fluttering of eyelashes, hand strokes through the hair, and long personal chats. You try not to panic and wonder where your gaggle of queers are when you need them!

Before I am given the chance to order, I am subjected to a ten minute speech about how difficult it is to find a good man. Instead of responding back... Oh, I know honey! They are just bassstardsss, I listen intently with a concerned look.

When I am finally allowed to order, I choose a large fried shrimp poboy. Instead of running to the kitchen with my order, the waitress notices that my iPhone is no longer cracked. I explain that I got a new one.

She then goes into excruciating detail about how she went to one of those cheap dollar stores four times last week looking for iPod accessories. We were talking about my iPhone and she is telling me about her iPod shopping extravaganza. Oh goodie! I get to learn with bated anticipation what she found shopping in each of those four trips! :/

Thankfully, my meal arrives quickly and I gobble it up. The waitress then announces that she is giving me a complimentary bread pudding. I thank her. She stands there and asks if I like it. I smile back and let her know that I do! She tells me how they make it. I am like... "Ohh... interesting!"

I pay my bill and leave. I am now pouting that I didn't get my 30 minutes of peace and quiet.

Animal Friend

It pains me when offspring are separated from their mothers on the farm. It is a traumatic experience for both the mother and their offspring. Hearing them call for each other will send chills down your spine.

While the other colts and fillies are enjoying more time with their mothers, this filly has no one. Her mother died unexpectedly when she was only three months old.

Going by markings, I am pretty sure these pictures show them together in happier times:




She lost her mother at such a young age. I often wonder if the filly is lonely. She is still extremely shy and skittish around me. The closest I have managed to get to her is to feed her hay by hand. Any other movement startles her and she takes off running.

I check on the filly daily. There is no reason an animal should be lonely. I look foreword to the day when she let's me brush her coat.

Murder in the Hen House

Your chickens are never safe from predators. There has been a hawk flying around the farm. It looks just like the one shown in this video I found on Youtube.

If you own chickens, you tend to count them every day just to make sure nothing funny is going on. I knew my count was not going to be right this morning when I found the grisly remains of Greta Van Horn. She was rudely murdered and picked apart clean.

Rocky let me pick up the remains of Greta by the feet and carry her out without attacking me. Greta was buried under the same oak tree where Myrtle, Abigail, and Betsy are now resting. May God rest her feathery soul.

God Save the Queen

UPDATE: Sorry for this rant. I have a friend that has really worked my last gay nerve. Do you know how it is when you see a buddy fucking up and you just want to shake them out of it? Yeah. Well, that's what I was feeling when I wrote this blog post. I have already returned back to sane.

Well, I hope you are happy. You have finally done it! You have brought shame down upon our house. I can't fathom the number of times I have rolled my eyes at you. You are giving me wrinkles! It has taken every fiber of my being to not jump up and slap the shit out of you.

Oh... don't turn this around on me Missy. I know I am crazy. This ain't the time nor place to talk about my shit. I am riding your ass on this... not the other way around.

Ahem. (clearing throat) Let me be crystal clear. If you don't get your house in order, there will be an intervention. And it won't be pretty! That is all.

Rooster Bud

I love my Cock. Really deep down, I am sure Rocky loves me too. Consider this video a dedication to our love. Under no circumstances should this video be analyzed as to why my relationships never work out. LOL.

My Problem with Tubby People

America has a FAT problem. According to a Business Week article, there are four states where the obesity rates are over 30%. The blue ribbons go to: Mississippi (32.5%), West Virginia (31.2%), Alabama (31.1%), and Tennessee (30.2%). They are taking over our nation and will soon be the majority! Noooo....

When I pass a Tubby person, they'll typically make a snarky comment like: Eww... you are soooo skinny... why don't you let me buy you a meal? Steam rises. My face becomes flushed in crimson red. It takes every fiber of my being to not blow my top.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!

My first action is to take off my shirt. I demand an immediate answer: Do I look skinny to you?! The Tubby predictably says, Yeah... that's pretty gross!

My eyes flash in anger. Do you not see these pecs? I do the Hulk flex pose. What about these guns? I imitate the blogger formerly known as thisboyelroy. No response.

I swiftly unbutton my jeans and let them fall down to my ankles. You see how rock hard these quads are? I rotate a leg 90 degrees... What about these hamstrings? Or calves? I turn around and flex my back muscles.

To my utter dismay, I hear the Tubby let out a long drawn out yawn. Arggh!!!

Fine. I've won my share of beauty pageants. I know what it takes! I remove my Andrew Christian underwear, and began ferociously slapping my ass cheeks hard. You see this? You can bounce quarters off these babies! I even bend over to demonstrate just how fuckable that ass is.

Exhausted, I turn around to face my tormentor. He is jerking off... and his tongue is out. Son of a bitch! Fooled again. Tubby people are manipulative!

The Loneliest Filly

This poor filly had the misfortune of losing her mother. She was moved away from the rest of the horses and put into her own paddock. She is very shy, but is slowly learning that we mean her no harm. I check on her daily to see if she is doing okay.